The Way You Like It
by Rhadeya
Summary: Someone is targetting MI6 agents, Moneypenny is MIA and James must find her and solve the mystery before time runs out for them all... [Please R&R]
1. Precision Timing

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything related to Bond. I do own all new characters and situations, so please don't use those without my permission._

_**Author's Notes**: Having recently watched "Die Another Day" yet again, I had to put this down on paper. However, due to the nature of the content in later chapters, the rating will either go up to _**R**_ or the chapters in question will be heavily edited. This one is a short chapter, just to set the scene evil grin

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**1. Precision Timing**

  
The offices were empty, save for a few hardy souls working the night shift. Angela Moneypenny, MI6 agent and _'super secretary'_, closed down her computer and locked her desk drawers. Darkness had descended outside and, glancing at her watch, she smiled to herself, knowing she had just enough time. It had become somewhat of a ritual for her now; leave work by six and she could be at his house by seven. She waved goodbye to Agent Andrews as she headed for the lift, and smiled to Jenny on reception as she left the MI6 headquarters. She walked down the street a few meters and hailed a taxi, giving the driver the address to which she was headed. A shiver ran down her spine as she looked out of the taxi window; the streets of London were slightly blurred as the vehicle headed out of the city centre. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that had been plaguing her all day. The scent of something sickly sweet tickled her senses for a second, but was gone before she could identify the substance, and she wondered whether she had imagined it. A wry smile tugged at her lips as the taxi drew up at the curb in a quiet street, and she paid the driver, missing the look he gave her as she slowly got out of the car. She waited for the taxi to pull away before she turned and walked back down the street, towards her real destination.

  
Street lamps dotted along the quiet street cast small pools of yellow light onto the stone pavement, small puddles of light in a lake of darkness. The uneasy feeling was growing as she walked slowly, gradually becoming a small, hard knot of fear in her stomach. Something was wrong, she just couldn't put her finger on what it was. Her head felt lighter than normal, as if she were disconnected from her body in some way. She stopped suddenly, her hand resting on the cold metal of a lamppost to steady herself, as a sudden wave of dizziness washed over her.

"I must be coming down with something," she murmured to herself, her voice sounding overly loud in the silence of the deserted street. Shaking her head to try and dispel the fog which was seeping into her mind, she straightened her shoulders and took an unsteady step forwards. The street around her began to blur, her vision swimming as her legs refused to co-operate. Wave upon wave of nausea washed over her and she clamped her jaws shut against the urge to throw up. The world around her seemed to be in slow motion for a moment, as her legs buckled and she fell towards the hard pavement. With a curious switch of pace, the world suddenly seemed to fast-forward, and the stone beneath her rushed up to meet her. She bit her lip against the urge to cry out as pain laced through her knees and hands, the result of bone impacting against stone. Slumping against the stone wall behind her, she tried to steady her senses and calm her frayed nerves. Her breathing was fast and shallow as she tried to get her scattered thoughts to form some sort of coherent string, but the fog had grown thicker in her mind and she couldn't focus properly.

  
She jumped as the silence was shattered by the ringing of a cell phone nearby. She wondered briefly if someone was on the street; maybe they'd see her and offer their assistance. It took a few moments for her to realise that the phone she could hear was her own, tucked away in her small black handbag. Struggling to make shaking hands respond, she finally managed to retrieve the phone from her bag and press the accept button. It took all of her will to force numb fingers to grasp the phone and lift it to her ear.

"Moneypenny, are you there?" The female voice was familiar to her, but Angela couldn't place it immediately.

"Yes, M, I'm here." Her voice sounded strange, even to her own ears.

"Angela, what's wrong? Where are you?" The concern in the voice of her boss was obvious, and Angela realised, with a brief second of clarity, that this would be her only chance at help.

"I'm on Bristol Crescent..." Her words were heavily slurred as her voice trailed off.

"Angela?"

"M, something's wrong. I can't explain what, but I can't move..." Each word was an effort to force past nerveless lips, but she desperately hoped her boss would understand them and send help.

"Angela, I'm going to call an ambulance. Stay where you are and someone will be with you soon." M was doing a good job of hiding her own distress, but Angela's fog filled brain could still sense it.

"Hurry..." The word was barely more than a whisper, as her hand slipped away from her ear, taking the phone with it. Angela couldn't tell if the connection was still active; her attention had focused on the shadows around her. Darkness shifted, solidifying into a person who knelt down in front of her. The taxi driver, her mind identified him.

"Right on time," he laughed harshly, his voice sounding as if it were coming down a long tunnel. She stared at him in confusion, paralysed by whatever was happening to her. The world was playing tricks on her again, moving in that strange slow motion as a deafening sound erupted around her. An explosion, probably a bomb, she reasoned, trying to pinpoint the source. A part of her mind screamed at her to run, to fight, to get away from this person. Screams welled up in her throat but her body refused to do as she told it, and the screams died silently, unable to be released. Her nose caught that strange scent again, cloying and sickly sweet, but stronger now, invading her senses. Chloroform, she realised too late, as a damp cloth was pressed over her nose and mouth. She was dimly aware of the taxi driver smashing her cell phone under his boot heel, then the darkness rose up and claimed her, dragging her down into the blessed oblivion of unconsciousness.


	2. Lost

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything related to Bond. I do own all new characters and situations, so please don't use those without my permission._

_**Author's Notes**: OK, I know the last chapter was a little confusing, but things will become clear soon enough ;-)

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**2. Lost**

The plain, stark hallways of the MI6 headquarters, redecorated after the King murder, were filled with agents. James Bond, the best of the best and with a license to kill, walked slowly down the hallway towards M's office, making mental notes of the expressions on his colleague's faces. Some wore expressions of shock, while others looked dazed or confused. Several showed signs that tears had been shed, and that puzzled 007. What had happened here while he had been away? Something bad had happened, but involving whom? Had another attempt been made on M's life? Had they lost another agent? Was there going to be yet another 00 agent who would risk their life for no reward other than doing their duty? He pushed open the door of Moneypenny's office, the little room adjacent to M's office, and frowned in surprise. The chair behind the desk was empty, and the computer was switched off, indicating that Moneypenny was not at work today. James sighed, having hoped for a moment of gentle flirting to help him shake the uneasy feeling which had grown as he approached the office. He had better find out what was going on, he realised with a sad shake of his head, hoping he would catch the lovely Moneypenny before he left on his next assignment.

  
Opening the door to M's office, he stepped inside and froze, barely managing to keep his face impassive at the sight which greeted him. Standing to the left of M's desk stood Charles Robinson, M's head of security and one of the few people James considered a friend. He looked different, as if he had aged years in the past few weeks. He also looked tired, exhausted even, and his eyes held a slightly haunted look. The change in M, however, was even more pronounced than it was in Charles. She too looked as if she has aged years in the space of the few weeks he had been away, but the haunted look in her eyes was greater. She seemed suddenly fragile, and James didn't like the feelings that appearance stirred in him. She has always been so strong, as if made of solid steel, and her presence demanded respect and awe. Now, she seemed to have lost that smug self confidence she had always had, and James didn't like it. He slid into the empty chair and looked at his boss, keeping his icy calm professionalism.

"So, what happened?" He managed to keep his voice level, but he knew his eyes showed the concern he felt.

"We've had four incidents in the past seven days. A week ago, Agent Tomas Carlson was murdered. Someone planted a bomb in his car and wired it to go off when the ignition was engaged. Unfortunately, his wife and children were also in the car at the time." She paused, taking a deep breath before she continued. "Two days later, 004 was seriously injured in an explosion at the safe house in Jersey. Apparently the gas main ruptured and he didn't smell the fumes."

"I doubt that very much. Mark has being doing this job as long as I have, he knows to check everything when he enters a room, even in a safe house," he protested, lapsing back into silence at the quelling glare M shot him.

"The rest of us concur with your assessment, 007," she admonished, a trace of her old self showing itself again. James fought to keep hidden the smile that threatened to spread across his face; maybe things weren't as bad as he thought. Her next words chilled his blood in his veins.

"Yesterday, 009 was executed in Prague. We haven't found out the reason yet, but we must assume that her cover had been blown and she had been unable to escape." Fresh tears shone in her eyes as she relayed that news, and once more James felt a pang of compassion for his boss. He hadn't realised just how keenly she felt the death of any agent under her command, but he could see now that every death affected her greatly.

"You said there were _four_ incidents..." His gentle reminder was a not-so-subtle push to try and find out what they were hiding from him. The sudden flash of anguish on her face, swiftly clamped down upon and hidden away, caused an icy chill in James' gut. Whatever the fourth incident was, it was the reason everyone was so upset.

"There was another bomb attack, three days ago..." Charles began, saving M from having to explain the incident again. "The target was your flat..."

"My flat?" James whispered, the icy feeling in his gut beginning to spread. "What time did the bomb go off?" He would never know how he managed to keep his voice so calm and level.

"Around 7pm..."

"7pm..." Suddenly the room around his seemed to be spinning, dissolving away to leave only a blank, empty space covered with images of Moneypenny. The way she laughed, the sparkle in her eyes when he flirted with her, the way her full lips curved into a secretive smile when she thought he wasn't looking. He shook his head, dispelling the memories, and the room came back into focus.

"James?" Charles sounded concerned, worried even.

"Is she dead then? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" His voice sounded cold and hollow, even to his own ears.

"What?!?" The sharp look that M gave him would have made him laugh, under any other circumstances. But this moment was different, and there was no laughter in James, no sadness, just an icy calm bordering on uncontrollable rage.

"Is Moneypenny dead, M?" He looked into her eyes, the power of his gaze making it impossible for her to break eye contact.

"We don't know, James." The note in Charles' voice told him there was more to know, more they were trying to hide from him. "We know neither her condition, nor her location. At the present time, her status is listed as MIA..."

"Missing? Are we sure she wasn't just injured in the blast and taken to hospital?" As soon as the words passed his lips, James regretted them. He was well aware that M would have had every available member of personnel exploring every possible avenue of investigation. "Sorry," he apologised, covering his eyes with one hand for a moment.

"Why don't we have a drink and try to figure this out?" Charles' suggestion was a welcome one to all concerned, and James caught M's thoughtful gaze as her head of security readied the aforementioned drinks.

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_More to come soon, I promise :)_


	3. MIA

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything related to Bond. I do own all new characters and situations, so please don't use those without my permission._

_**Author's Notes**: So, we know that James is aware Moneypenny was at his flat at 7pm. What was she doing there? This chapter attempts to answer some of the questions from the previous 2 chapters ;-)_

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3. MIA**

Taking the glass of whiskey offered to him, James sat back in the comfortable leather chair and tried to organise his scattered thoughts. Moneypenny was missing, possibly hurt in the blast that had occurred at his flat. But there was more to the situation than that. For starters, he was going to have to explain to M and Charles how he knew Moneypenny had been at his flat. That was going to take some seriously smooth talking, unless he just told them the truth. No, he couldn't risk ruining her reputation so casually; he'd have to make up an excuse about why she was there, and it had better be a damn good one. Watering the plants, that was why she was there. At least, that is what he would make everyone believe. He pulled his attention back to the present as he heard Charles clear his throat.

"So, exactly what happened?"

"Well, we know there was an explosion at your flat. From the spread and type of damage, we know it was C4 that was used. However, given the recent attacks, and Moneypenny's condition at the time of the blast, we have come to the conclusion that you weren't the target," Charles told him, his voice tinged with worry.

"You think she was the target, and the bomb was just a diversion?" He waited for the nod of affirmation from Charles before he continued. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because she had a phone call just before the blast, and something was wrong," came the reply from the quiet Head of Security.

"A phone call? From whom? And how do we know something was wrong?"

"Because I was the one calling her, 007." The words were spoken in a firm voice, but James could see the strain in her eyes as M imparted this piece of information.

"So what was wrong?"

"Her words were slurred, and she was complaining of dizziness. As we all know, Angela doesn't drink, so it is my belief she was under the influence of a drug of some kind. What substance, and who administered it, are still unknown."

"Was there anything else on the recording of the call?" James hid a smile at the sharp look M shot him. She obviously believed him unaware that all calls into, and out of, MI6 headquarters were recorded.

"There was a male voice, just before the explosion. The connection was severed at the point. However, the remains of the phone were recovered several feet outside the debris radius, and it appears to have been crushed," M admitted, her gaze meeting James' for a moment.

"And the voice analysis guys have run the voice pattern against all known threats we have on file?"

"They have, and they came up with a possible match. But," She held up her hand to stop James as he went to speak. "But, 007, the man they came back with has been dead for several years."

"Who was it they came back with?"

"Jordan Yorlovic," replied Charles, his voice tight with controlled anger. James looked at him for a moment, his gaze steady as he processed this information. He and Charles had been friends for a very long time, since the head of security was a young boy. Charles' parents had both been MI6 agents; his mother had once held the same position her son now held, and his father had held 00 status. Both had been hard working and loyal agents, who were murdered by Jordan when Charles was fifteen years old. James' former best friend, Alex, had been sent to eliminate Yorlovic, and had returned with the ring Jordan wore, as proof of his death.

"Yet another of Alex's mistakes," sighed James, taking a sip from his glass.

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As_ he swallowed the bitter tasting liquid, his mind summoned an image of Moneypenny, and what would happen to her at Jordan's hands. He recalled enough of the Russian to remember how he treated people, especially women.

"So it would seem. Now, would you mind telling me exactly why Angela was outside your flat at the time?" M's voice was laced with curiosity, and a hint of disapproval.

"She was watering my plants." The reply came a little too quickly. "Now, should we start the search at Jordan's old haunts?" Before M could answer, there came a timid knock at the door and a moment later, a fresh faced young woman entered the room. She too seemed to have been crying recently, and she wordlessly handed M an envelope. She turned and left the room, not saying a word to anyone, yet her gaze flickered to James for a moment and he saw the hope in her eyes. Hope that he would find Angela, and bring her home safely. He turned his attention back to M, watching closely as she opened the small envelope and removed its contents. A single sheet of note paper, containing a few words scrawled in black ink, was folded around a silver necklace. It was the necklace James had given to Moneypenny, on his return from Russia after the Goldeneye mission. And now, here it was in the MI6 headquarters, covered in blood. Angela Moneypenny's blood...

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_Just a short one :) Next chapter sees Moneypenny in some serious trouble..._


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